


Nuclear

by achillese



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst, Dark, M/M, Past Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-11
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2018-01-12 00:37:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/achillese/pseuds/achillese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Adam Milligan returns to his freshman year of college for the spring semester, his main goal to just blend in with the wallpaper and remain in the shadows. What happened to him over the winter break, however, means a lot of people staring and asking questions, the most prominent one being: <i>how did you survive?</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. lay back the darkness

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fairly dark college AU. There'll be some fluffy moments in it, but be prepared for future descriptions of violence and the like. If anything further happens I'll update the tags/warnings accordingly!

Adam pulled the sleeve of his hoodie down over his hand, hooking his thumb into the fabric to keep it in place as he looked up at the gold lettering on the building in front of him that read ‘College of Agricultural and Life Sciences.’ It was one building out of God knows how many at the University of Wisconsin, but it was the building where most of Adam’s classes were, and by default it was the building he was most worried about. 

His dorm was fine; he’d been granted his special request for a single room all to himself. The other kids on his floor didn’t really bother him much after the first day, when their RA had them do icebreakers to ‘get to know each other’ and Adam had simply told everyone to Google his name and they’d learn all they needed to know. It was a pointless thing to say in retrospect, only because everyone already knew. 

Someone bumped into Adam’s backpack from behind, jarring him from his thoughts. He blinked and took a deep breath before heading into the building, trying as hard as he could to look straight ahead at the elevators all the way across the lobby, which felt like a wide, empty expanse of ocean. Adam flashed his school ID at the security guard as quickly as he could before fast walking to one already-open elevator, ducking inside just as the doors closed. 

To his everlasting chagrin, the elevator wasn’t empty. A boy and a girl were already inside, having been in the middle of a conversation about their new classes this semester, and they both hushed as Adam hit the button for the sixth floor and tried to hide himself in the furthest corner. 

The silence lasted for about five seconds.

“You’re him, right?” the boy asked without reservation, his voice sounding loud as thunder in the enclosed space. “The murder victim?”

Adam winced. “ _Attempted_ murder victim,” he corrected quietly. 

“Sorry,” the boy said, not sounding sorry at all. “You got any scars from it?”

“Luce!” the girl hissed, nudging him in the ribs. 

“What? I’m just asking. They’re probably badass.”

“You can’t just _ask_ him something like that.”

“Why not? He doesn’t mind. You don’t mind, do you?” the boy asked, suddenly addressing Adam. 

Adam tried to resist the urge to curl in on himself. Luckily he was saved from having to answer as the elevator doors pinged open on the fourth floor and the girl quickly jumped out, pulling the boy along behind her before he could get a chance to say anything else stupid. Adam barely caught the boy yelling, “What’s the matter with you, Anna?” before the doors closed again and he breathed a sigh of relief, sagging against the wall opposite the door. 

Okay. _Okay_. He’d been expecting something like that to happen. It was inevitable, really. With Madison as a medium-sized city and the university itself boasting a population of about 28,000 undergrads, his attack had made the news quicker than the blink of an eye. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed young college freshman, straight out of his first fall semester at school. It was a sensational story any journalist would’ve loved to get their hands on, and many of them did. 

The door finally opened on the sixth floor and like a ship gliding through still water Adam floated down the hall to his cellular biology class. He’d been allowed to skip the intro class thanks to the copious amount of AP credits and honors courses he carried from high school, and as a result he ended up in classes that usually consisted of upperclassmen. None of them had ever really taken notice of Adam before, even though he looked a little out of place with his obvious freshman aura around him, but Adam knew today would be different. They’d notice.

\---

They didn’t notice until the professor, Dr. Turner, sat them all down and had them go around the room introducing themselves with their name, major, and one interesting fact about themselves. Immediately Adam’s stomach contracted when he heard the instructions and he felt as though every eye in the room shifted towards him. He stared at the whiteboard behind Dr. Turner’s head and pretended its blank face was exceedingly interesting.

Adam had sat in the second to last row and he watched the other students go before him, most of them rattling off their introductory statements quickly with an occasional nod and comment from Dr. Turner. Adam had half a mind to pretend he was in the wrong class and duck out of there, but before he knew it the girl next to him had just finished her introduction – “I’m Joanna, but you can call me Jo” blah blah blah – and all eyes were on him. 

He swallowed hard, trying to tell his heart to stop beating so fast.

“H-Hi,” he said, voice a little high. “I’m Adam. Biology major. Interesting fact about myself...” He trailed off, chewing the inside of his cheek, not wanting to state the obvious, not wanting to draw attention to himself, before he just decided to lie about something simple: “I’ve never been outside the continental U.S.”

It was over. The band-aid had been ripped off. Dr. Turner nodded once and smiled encouragingly before moving on to the next student. Adam had never been so grateful in his life.

Except, that wasn’t true.

\---

Towards the end of class, Dr. Turner announced that he’d be assigning groups of four people that would remain as a lab group throughout the rest of the semester. Some of the other students made small noises of annoyance but Adam remained silent, trying to quell the rising terror by counting the number of bricks on the wall opposite him.

He did, however, manage to listen as his name was called.

“Group number three,” Dr. Turner announced, reading off the list at his desk, “will be Kevin Tran, Adam Milligan, Michael D’Angelo, and Meg Masters.”

Adam looked around the room to try and identify who any of these people were, but luckily they all seemed to be doing the same thing and trying to locate their new group. A black-haired Chinese boy diagonal from Adam caught his eye, smiled wide, and waved. Adam managed to lift his head for a platonic nod. 

Then there was a brunette-haired girl chewing gum, dark eyes scanning over both Adam and the other boy before she, too, nodded at both of them before turning around in her seat and checking her phone under the table. 

The last one was another dark-haired boy, tall and broad enough that had Adam seen him on the street he would’ve sworn he’d be anything _but_ a college student. The boy gave all of them a small smile (except for the girl who hadn’t looked up from her phone) and added a thumbs-up as well. 

When Dr. Turner finished reading off the last of the lab groups and dismissed them early, Adam stayed seated in his chair. He felt like he’d draw more attention if he tried to bolt, so he planned to let everyone else file slowly out of the classroom before packing his things. 

The dark-haired boy stayed behind too, putting things in his backpack at a suspiciously slow pace. Adam tried not to look at him, but that proved to be useless as the boy got up from his seat and headed directly for Adam.

Before the boy could say anything, Adam spoke up, trying to sound authoritative: “Anything you wanna know was probably answered in a news article or TV broadcast somewhere. I recommend Google and YouTube.”

The boy halted in his tracks. “I wasn’t gonna ask anything about that, I swear,” he said, looking mildly stunned at Adam’s matter-of-factness. “I was just gonna ask for your school email.”

“Why?”

“...So we can all stay in contact with each other easier. I don’t have a Facebook account.”

“Oh.” Adam blinked, feeling a little stupid. “Sorry. I, uh...yeah, hang on...” He ripped a small bit of paper from his notebook and bent over it to scribble his email. “Why didn’t you grab the other two?”

“Meg’s dating my brother, so I see her around a lot. I’ll get hers later. And Kevin’s the assistant editor of the school lit mag so his email’s on every flier.” The boy – Michael, by process of elimination – paused. “You I never see.”

Was that supposed to hint at Adam’s love of privacy? He couldn’t tell. 

Adam handed Michael the slip of paper, not meeting his gaze. Michael took it and shoved it in his pocket, shouldering his backpack as he did so. 

“So I guess I’ll see you on Thursday?” he asked expectantly, not budging even as Adam started to pack his own things in faux-hurriedness. 

“Next class, yeah.” Adam turned his head away to stuff his notebook in his bag and he felt Michael’s green eyes on him.

He knew what Michael was looking at. 

There was a heavy pause.

“Okay, well, see you later then.” Michael awkwardly fumbled to save the uncomfortable silence as he backed up, turned around, and left the classroom without a backwards glance.

\---

Adam got an email from Michael later that night. It arrived just as he was finishing an episode of ‘Kings’:

_I’m sorry I stared. It was really inappropriate of me. It won’t happen again, I promise, but I understand if you’re now uncomfortable with me in your lab group and want to switch to someone else’s. – Michael_

Adam reread the message while he touched a hand to his neck, fingers gently tracing the long, thin scar that cut across his otherwise smooth skin, the place where his intended murderer had tried to cut his throat.


	2. a pocketful of words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry these are a little on the short side for now! I'm busy with a huge side project that has a deadline of March 15, so after that's handed in I'll be able to give this baby my [mostly] undivided attention.

They called the suspect the ‘Ghoul of Madison’, because he was never caught and nobody had ever managed to catch a glimpse of him. He slipped in and out of the shadows like a wraith, always long gone by the time the bodies were found and the police got involved. 

Adam had been questioned routinely by the police after he was well enough to do so. They hadn’t even given him the courtesy and dignity of leaving the hospital first before descending like a pack of bloodhounds, asking him over and over again: _Did you see his face? Did you hear his voice? How tall was he? Get any physical features? What was he wearing? Which direction was he coming from when he jumped you?_

Every time, Adam wanted to reply with: _I dunno, I was too busy getting a free gastrectomy to pay attention to his fashion choices._

Even now, Adam could see the same questions at the tips of everyone’s tongues around him, from the girls who lived in the dorm room next to his, down to the random professor who stood next to him while on line for coffee at Starbucks on Thursday morning. 

It really was true, according to the general public. Tragedy was a sensation. 

Adam rolled his eyes at the very thought as he headed into the Life Science building for cellular biology. _Sensation_. Yeah, right. 

He barely passed the security desk when he saw Michael approaching him from the elevator, shaking his head ‘no.’ Adam quirked an eyebrow, having no idea what Michael was even indicating.

“What’s going on?” Adam asked, shouldering his backpack as the older boy stopped in front of him.

“Just got an email from Dr. Turner. Class is cancelled today – he had to take his daughter to the doctor’s.”

“Oh shit.” Adam’s eyes widened. “D’you know if she’s gonna be—”

“He said she’ll be fine, she just caught a fever so he wants to make sure it’s nothing more than it seems.” Michael paused for a moment, seemingly thinking something over, before he said, “Listen, about yesterday—”

“I got your email,” Adam interrupted.

Michael blinked. “Oh. I thought...I mean, you didn’t reply.”

“Was I supposed to?” Adam arched an eyebrow.

“It might’ve helped. I thought you were too mad at me to even bother replying.”

It was Adam’s turn to say ‘oh.’ 

“Sorry. I wasn’t mad, I was just...” He trailed off, trying to figure out the best way to say what was on his mind without sounding like an asshole, but just decided to babble: “I’m tired of the apologies. ‘I’m sorry it happened.’ ‘I’m sorry for staring.’ ‘I’m sorry you have it so hard.’ Half the time it’s fake and the other half the time it’s just people hoping that I’ll spill all the details on what really happened.” Adam caught his words quickly. “Not that I think you’re doing either, I just...I get defensive pretty quickly.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Adam arched his eyebrow again, not sure if Michael was joking or not. The smile tugging at the corner of the older boy’s lips suggested he was, indeed, kidding. 

“Yeah, well...I’m still working on it. The whole being in the public eye thing.”

“Do people really take _that_ much notice?”

Adam shrugged one shoulder. “It was a big news story in the area. They kept showing my school photo on the TV. Plus, I single-handedly helped launch a state-wide search for a high profile serial killer.”

“You sound proud.”

“It’s about the only useful thing I’ve done since I got here.”

Michael actually chuckled at that. “Somehow I doubt that.” He pulled his phone out from his back pocket and checked the time. “I’ve got four hours to kill between now and my next class. Wanna grab a bite to eat?”

“It’s early for lunch, isn’t it?”

“Coffee, then.” When Adam hesitated, Michael added, “You _need_ to make new friends _some_ time, Adam.”

\---

That was how Adam found himself sitting across a small table in the campus Starbucks, a cup of hot chocolate in hand. It was too hot for him to even sip from, so he just warmed his hand around the cup and watched Michael drink the coffee he’d ordered.

“So what’s your major?” Adam asked, reverting to the most basic of conversation topics to shoo the awkward silence away. 

“Genetics.” Michael took a small sip of his drink. “Last year it was microbiology. And before that it was animal sciences.”

Adam whistled. “Really jumping all around the science courses there.”

“To be honest, I was never really sure what I wanted to do. I’m _still_ not. For all I know, a week from now I could really get into forest science.”

Adam’s lip twitched. “That’s not _really_ a major here, is it?”

“Don’t mock me, you tree hater.”

Adam chuckled as he lifted his cup to his lips to take a sip at last. His drink was finally a good temperature, but the chocolate flavor was overwhelmingly strong, so he put the cup down before he grossed himself out. 

When he looked back up, Michael’s eyes were on him curiously, and Adam had to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“Now what?” he asked.

“I’m trying to figure out what the boundaries are with you,” Michael said simply.

“What boundaries?”

“Well, for example, am I allowed to suggest that if you don’t want people staring at your neck to wear a scarf or put makeup on it?”

The matter-of-fact tone that Michael used stumped Adam mid-sip.

“You suggesting I put _makeup_ on myself?” he asked incredulously. 

“Not on your _face_ , just on your neck.”

“That’s still too close for comfort, dude.”

“So let me get this straight: you don’t like it when I apologize for being an asshole and ogling at you, but making blatant comments about your physical condition is okay?” Michael arched an eyebrow high. “This is what I mean when I say ‘boundaries.’”

Adam shrugged one shoulder. “I’m an enigma.”

A very _relaxed_ enigma, if he were being honest. He spent so much of his time nowadays tensed up and ready to hide in his shell at the first sign of unwanted attention, but right now his whole body was calm: shoulders forward in genuine interest, body muscles relaxed. Either Adam was slowly starting to get over himself or Michael was just some weird magical antidote for his anxieties. 

They sipped at their drinks for a little while longer in silence. Every now and then Adam looked up past Michael’s shoulder and spotted a student or two looking over at him with wide eyes. He tried to resist the urge to cup his hand around his neck and hide the scar like he’d grown used to. 

Maybe Michael’s makeup idea wasn’t so bad after all. 

“...roommate is,” Michael was saying when Adam’s mind returned to the present conversation.

Adam blinked. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I was just curious who your roommate is. Maybe I know him.”

“I don’t have one. I live in a single.”

Michael sighed. “You’re lucky. Roommates can be tough.”

“Who’s yours?”

“His name’s Dean. He’s a pain in the ass, to be honest with you. Bathroom hog, doesn’t do his laundry as often as he should, fills the mini-fridge with pie so there’s no room for my food. We try not to talk much, but – what’re you smiling about?”

The more Michael described Dean the wider Adam’s smile grew. “You’re talking about Dean Winchester, aren’t you?” he asked.

Michael looked surprised. “How did you know?”

“He’s my half brother. Once you mentioned pie I knew exactly who he was.”

Michael groaned and rubbed his face in his hands. “Your half brother. Of course. Just my luck.”

“Hey, no, don’t feel bad about talking shit about him. By all means, keep going. I’m not his biggest fan either.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“Swear to god I’m not. We’re not even that close, really. Only started getting to know each other last year.”

Michael still looked dubious. Adam rolled his eyes. Paranoid bastard. 

“Ask him yourself if you don’t believe me. I’m gonna get another hot chocolate.”

“You didn’t even finish the one you have now!” Michael protested as Adam stood up from his seat. 

“It’s too chocolatey.” 

“It’s hot _chocolate_. You’re a weirdo.”

Adam actually laughed as he got in line in front of the cashier, peering around the person in front of him to look at the pastry display and warring with himself whether we wanted to spring the money for a cinnamon roll.

When he finally reached the cashier, he tried to ignore the usual wide-eyed glance down to the scar on his neck as he ordered: “Hi, can I just get a hot chocolate, but less chocolate than what the barista usually puts in it? And also a cinnamon roll. Heated up, if you could.”

The cashier – a blonde girl who looked to be Adam’s age – blinked and entered his order into the machine. “Sorry, you said you wanted the roll heated?”

“Yeah.”

The girl glanced up at his neck again, an instinctual secondary motion. “I’m so sorry, I just...” She finally locked eyes with Adam. “Are you _him_?”

“The murder attempt survivor? Yeah.” Adam knew what she was talking about – he was used to the questions. 

She swallowed hard, eyes bright, and asked, “Can I talk to you after my shift’s over?”

Adam narrowed his eyes. Usually requests like these ended with a lot of asking him to retell what had happened to him. No thank you. “Why?”

“Because I’m the one who found you after you were attacked. I’m the one who called the cops.”


End file.
